Burn These Bridges: Save Me From Hell
by Jaiden Lockheart
Summary: The fire, the heat. Is it too much for you? I hope not, because I won't let you get away now. HarryDraco.
1. Of Blue Dragons and Getaways

**Note: Alright! I'm branching way out of my comfort zone right now. I'm usually seen over in the anime section (all of my previous stories are about Naruto), but I thought I'd try my shot over here. I've read some quite amazing stories here in the Harry Potter section, and I hope I fit in…As you can tell, if I'm writing a multi-chaptered story, I cannot make it short, so I apologize to anyone who wants something that will be a quick read…It's like a defect in my brain, I swear.**

**Disclaimer: I can't believe we still have to do this, but, I don't own. Go Ahead, try and sue me!**

**Warnings: This chapter mentions self-mutilation and a bit of sexual and physical abuse. Draco-torture abound, because I can't leave my favorite character alone...just ask those who've read my other fics... Oh, and just to let you all know, this is a slash fic…and I'm thinking, if you don't know what that means…you probably shouldn't/wouldn't want to be reading it…anyone else who still has a problem…there is a back button for just such occasions.**

**Summary: It's their last year in school, their last year to be children. Draco comes into his seventh year with a secret and abusive past, withdrawing even from his friends. Will someone save him from his hell? Or will be alone to say goodbye...**

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**Burning These Bridges: Save Me From Hell**

**Jaiden Lockheart**

**Chapter I: Of Blue Dragons and Getaways **

Draco Malfoy lay on the soft silk sheets that covered a king-sized bed in the center of his room. The satin duvet lay on the floor beside it, having been kicked away at some time in the night. His head did not rest on a pillow but rather just below it, and his chest, exposed pale skin, heaved as he found himself woken once more by a nightmare he was glad he'd forgotten the moment his eyes had opened. His legs, clad only in the thin, black cotton material of his pajama bottoms, were placed rather awkwardly, tangled in sheets and various other items he had forgotten to clean off the top on his bed last night. He chided himself for that now though, as it was quite uncomfortable and he was becoming irritated with one particular book digging into his shin. However, he wasn't through calming himself, so he wasn't moving just yet.

'_Just breathe', _he thought to himself, '_Calm the breathing, calm the heart rate. Then you'll be able to think clearly enough to stand up on your own.'_

He closed his eyes, blocking out the light of the rising sun shining through his balcony doors. He hadn't had the energy to draw the large drapes like usual. He figured that was the only reason he was awake so early, or he was just trying to convince himself of that. He knew the real reason. It took a lot more than cool summer breezes hitting his exposed skin and sunlight dancing across his face to wake him so abruptly. Let alone wake him in a cold sweat and a shivering body.

To anyone that wasn't used to seeing him rouse like this, they would assume something was terribly wrong with him. And they may still be right. He wouldn't refuse to admit something was seriously fucked up about this whole situation, but he also wouldn't refuse to admit that he was used to it either. He had grown quite accustomed to being frightened awake, as that was usually how he woke up anyway. However, he couldn't lie to himself by saying this morning was anything like the others, was anything he was _really _used to.

Blonde hair ghosted over his face, so light that even when his eyes opened it was hard for him to focus on the strands. It had grown some over the summer, reaching his chin now in spiked, straight layers. His slate eyes were often obscured from view, as his bangs covered them effectively. He had thought of coloring it, but the prospect of changing his appearance too much sickened him.

Not that he was afraid of change. No, far from it. He would have been happy for a switch in color. Anything to get away from the monotony of the white. Everything about him was white. Belied purity, he thought of it as. However, he knew that that impression, that imitation of innocence was what kept him so alluring. And he did not want to think of what would become of him if he were to look even a little less than innocent.

Surely, it shouldn't matter that much. But he wouldn't lie to himself about this. He was sick of lying to himself now, for he had done it for so long. He had tried to make himself feel just a little bit better by pretending he didn't know what those appreciative looks and crude comments were about. If he pretended they didn't mean anything, then they wouldn't mean anything. He could convince himself of that…or so he had thought.

Even after that first moment, after the cold lips had pressed against his own he had tried to reason with himself. Justify the actions of the one that lay atop him at night, pounding into him and leaving those beautiful black and blue marks across the whiteness of his skin.

It's just a little color, he would tell himself.

But he was sick of it being _just a little color._ He was sick of trying to justify it, trying to make it seem less important, less devastating.

And yet, he had known. He had known just how devastating it really was. So much so that he allowed himself the nightmares, as a reminder. He needed that reminder.

He sat up slowly, careful not to do more damage than he already had. Preventing hyperventilation from his fear seemed rather pointless if he was just going to start breathing quickly and more shallow from the pain of making himself get out of bed. But he couldn't risk lying here all day. There were things he needed to do, things he needed to take care of. And he didn't want to lie here long enough to convince himself he was better off here, where he served a purpose. Because, this would be the last morning he would wake up in his room for a long time. He would go back to being utterly useless in just a few short hours.

"You should be happy." He said to the full-length mirror that hung from his bathroom door, and was a little disappointed when his reflection didn't come up with a response. He glared at the mirror, his blue-grey eyes narrowing dangerously, zeroing in on the various injuries that marred his otherwise flawless skin. He softened a moment later, not able to stare at himself any longer.

He showered and dressed quickly, squinting against the light of the fully risen sun when he stepped out of the bathroom. He dressed in a simple black t-shirt that clung to his narrow waist; it supported some American muggle rock band that he didn't listen to, but that Blaise had discovered and adored. His jeans were ripped and stained with the paint that he and Pansy had used to decorate her room last month. Why they hadn't just used magic to color the room was beyond him at the time--Pansy had said something about it cramping her artistic style--but had come to thoroughly enjoy the look on his parents' faces when he wore the filthy looking pants.

The rest of his clothes were packed neatly away in his trunk, along with the various other items that he would be needing this term. The heavy trunk sat next to his door, his broom lying against it almost precariously. He would have to pack it too, but he had plenty of time to do that in later hours.

A look to the grandfather clock that sat in the corner of his room told him the time was just past six o'clock. Perfect. He had plenty of time to get things sorted out before he would have to be off to catch the train.

He moved to his writing desk and swung one leg over his seat, sitting backwards on the wooden chair, his chest pressed against the oaken back, laying his head across the top. He quickly sifted through the things on the desk in front of him. Glancing at certain items only once and tossing them into the waist basket beside him, there was precisions little that he left there.

He hadn't bothered packing his small leather-bound diary with his school things this year, as he had filled it's pages with inky smudges of torture stories all written in his loopy feminine penmanship. No, he would leave that here. He would start a new one again at school this year, just like he had always done. The old one, filled with memories he didn't want to remember but was too stubborn to forget, would be left to find with the other things he didn't want to carry with him. And this was certainly something he didn't want to carry with him. His nightmares would be enough of a reminder. Those and…

He raised a brow at the long jagged scar running down the length of his left arm. It started at his wrist and made its way up to the middle of his forearm, where the muscle clearly jutted out under pale skin. It was an angry thing, the scar. Hideous, and he was barely able to stand looking at it. But he wouldn't allow himself to cover it up. It was just another reminder of the sins he had committed, of the sins he was bound to commit in later days.

He shook his head in amusement at his own thoughts. Sins? Sins were forgiven, or were thought to be. The things he had done would never be forgiven.

He chuckled, dispelling the air of sorrow that had been threatening to settle in, and moved on to the other things on his desk. Business.

He answered his friends' letters first. Telling Pansy where he wanted to meet at the train station so they didn't have to waste time trying to find each other on board, and reassuring Blaise for the seventh time that he wouldn't forget the sweatshirt that Blaise left the last time he had come over to stay for the weekend--another one of those frivolous muggle music logos on the front.

Then he moved on to cancel subscriptions for the end of summer and turn down offers for academies that had been mailing him for the past few months. Informing others, that he wanted to keep in touch with, of his change of address starting tonight.

By the time he was finished writing his letters, he started hearing the creaking of his parents moving around their room. Good, he had been wishing to speak with his mother before he had to leave today. It really wasn't her fault for what happened this summer, and he was certain she would want to be reassured that he was fine and not to worry.

Two owls were already waiting for him to attach the bundles of letters to their legs. He sent one south, to where Pansy and Blaise were staying at Pansy's house. The other went north, headed for the ministry. He watched them fly off from atop his balcony, three stories above ground.

He noticed the wind was a little chillier than it should have been for this time of year, but dismissed the thought quickly. He wrapped thin, pale arms around himself, rubbing his mottled skin in an attempt to stay warm. He knew he should go back inside, should grab that damned sweatshirt Blaise was always harping about. But he knew he wouldn't.

"Always a fucking masochist." He told himself, enjoying the feel of the gooseflesh that was rising along his exposed skin. The wind wasn't cold enough to hurt him, but it would surely numb things nicely soon. And numbing things was what he had always wanted to do. The superiority complex of knowing he wanted his death to eventually come and knowing he'd be able to be completely numb to it all.

His fingers ran over a particularly sensitive bruise on the side of his arm, the size of a thumb print. He hissed at the pain but didn't stop pressing his own thumb into the bruise.

…maybe he wouldn't be numb after all.

"Draco?" He turned to the sound behind him. Finding Narcissa standing in his doorway, her own arms shielding her from the cold wind. "What are you doing out here, darling?"

He didn't answer her save for the subtle shaking of his head. He followed her back into his room when she beckoned him with her hand. Closing the balcony doors behind himself, and turning to his mother once more. A small smile was playing across her extremely thin lips, one that he found himself mimicking. He didn't flinch or pull away when a hand came to cup his cheek, but he no longer allowed himself to lean into her hand either.

This family, this house, had taught him better than to trust people, even if their hands were as soft as his mother's, even if they promised him no harm.

"I'm going to miss you this year." She said and he believed her. He nodded to her, wanting to repeat the words, but not able to, because coming from his own mouth would only be the truth, and again, he'd been taught better than that. Malfoys didn't show affection. So he just smiled a little wider and sighed inaudibly.

"Oh, Dragon…" She said and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to embrace her. He carefully wrapped his own arms around her. It was true, he really would miss her. Sometimes, she was his only sanity.

Eventually, she pulled away looking him over once more. She rolled her eyes at his attire but didn't tell him to change, which he was grateful for. She had warmed to his change in style quickly, actually, saying something about teenage rebellion and going through it once herself.

"Are you all packed?" She asked instead.

"Yes." He said nodding and motioning to his trunk sitting by the door. He noticed the house elves had taken it upon themselves to pack his broom and he chuckled at their diligence.

"Good, well…" She paused, eyeing him again, her smile returning. "You look a lot like your father."

He looked away from her at the sound of those words, trying to keep his sudden nausea at bay. That was the last thing he wanted to hear from her now. They wouldn't be seeing each other for a long time after he left today, couldn't she think of something a little less sickening to say?

"But," he looked back to her, a mischievous glint now present in her eyes, "you look more like me."

That he could live with. Something he knew was entirely too truthful, it was almost humorous. Over the past years, when everyone had expected him to grow tall and broader, he had thinned considerably. He was taller than Narcissa by at least five inches, but not much thicker. His slender seeker's build had remained throughout his life, making him look almost feminine. Narrow waist and thin legs.

For the first time in a long time, he laughed genuinely. Narcissa joined in for a moment before the two of them sobered and she was walking quickly to his writing desk where she had set a small box down when she had entered the room. He watched as she picked it up and carried it almost delicately over to him.

"I got you something…to start off the new year." She couldn't bring herself to say 'goodbye present' because she wanted to believe that he would come back to her eventually. However, she knew that if the two of them ever did see each other again after today, it would probably be in the very distant future. She knew what he was thinking, and she had no doubt in her mind that it was the truth.

After today, her son would be free.

"You didn't have to…" He protested, shaking his head and refusing to reach out to take the small box from her hand.

"Oh, stop it. Yes, I did. You know that." She said sharply, the tears visible in her eyes.

Every year, it never failed. Every fucking year, she would come into his room before he left to catch the train for school and give him a present. They had this same argument every time she would present him with something new, and she always won, usually by way of tears. Draco couldn't refuse her tears.

He nodded, not willing to put up much of a fight, and tentatively took the box from her grasp. He didn't open it now; he would wait until he had boarded the train…just like every year.

"Spoiling him again, Narcissa?"

As he slid the small box into his pocket, his eyes snapped up to find his father leaning against his doorway. His eyes narrowed considerably. Lucius Malfoy was the last person he wanted to see right now. He had almost been happy, spending these last few moments with his mother, whom he imagined to be the only one of his family that truly cared for him.

"Not spoiling, Lucius." Narcissa corrected, turning her fierce blue eyes to her husband. The two parents seemed to glare at each other for a moment before turning their attention back to their son. "It's just a little something for the beginning of term," his mother continued, "and besides, his birthday is coming up real soon."

"And then you'll shower him with gifts while he's at school." Lucius said calmly, but Draco could hear the contempt in his tone, "You smothering does nothing to strengthen him."

Narcissa only sighed, not wanting to argue with her husband right now. She softened a moment later though, when she felt Draco's hand on her arm. She turned to look up at her son.

"Thank you." He said, a small smile gracing his lips. "You really didn't have to."

Receiving another stern look that said 'say that again and see what happens', Draco realized just how much he was going to miss Narcissa. He chuckled then, at the look she gave Lucius a moment later.

"See, I'm not spoiling him at all." She said. "He is still very appreciative."

She then gave her son one final hug, whispering her goodbye in his ear, and swept from the room to leave her husband and her son alone.

Draco didn't wait for his father to start speaking. He checked the clock again, seeing that it was time for him to leave, and walked over to gather his things to leave. Throwing Blaise's sweatshirt over his head and pushing his arms through the sleeves, he said nothing to Lucius while dressing to leave. He slipped his feet into his shoes while asking the house elf by his door to take his trunk downstairs.

When he was on his way out the door to leave, he was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder. Suppressing a shudder from the proximity of his very nightmares, Draco listened to the words hissed in his ear.

"This is your last year," Lucius said, his breath sliding over Draco's skin, leaving the young Malfoy feeling sick, "do not disappoint me."

He was going to walk away without a word.

"And," His father's hand tightened painfully on his shoulder, old bruises undoubtedly mixing with new ones, "never forget, my dear dragon…You. Are. Mine."

"Of course." Draco whispered, because, like so many times before, he had lost any desire to argue.

And it was with those words ringing in his ears that Draco Malfoy left his home forever.

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"Hurry up, 'Mione!" Ron shouted to the girl that ran behind him along the platform of their train. He had a firm hold of her hand, pulling her along as the two raced to board the train. They were late, having woken up later than they had expected to, and had had to rush all the way to the train station.

"I am." Hermione yelled back at him, rushing to catch up. The two of them made their way to the end of the train, where they boarded with the other passengers that had gotten there a little later than others. They just hoped a seat was still available.

"Harry would have saved us one," Ron reassured her when she voiced her concern, and she hoped her boyfriend was right.

They hadn't spoken with their black-haired friend for over a month, having been out of the country and not wanted to deal with the hassle of international owls. She wasn't so sure Harry had really been fine with the whole situation, even though he reassured them plenty of times before they had left. She had been truly sorry that they couldn't bring him along, but with strict orders from their headmaster, he had had to stay with his aunt and uncle all summer. He hadn't even been able to visit the Burrow for a week or two.

She pushed those thoughts aside as she followed Ron through the corridors of the train. Trying, as she walked, to sort through the papers in her hand so she could put them into her bag. Looking down for a moment, she let go of Ron's hand, loosing him in the throng of people easily. She glanced back up, searching for him, but instead of see him over the tops of other students' heads, she saw nothing but the chest of someone much taller than her before she was knocked to the ground. The papers flew from her hands as she landed on the floor of the train.

"Oh…my god, I'm sorry." She apologized while frantically trying to snatch the papers from under the many feet that surrounded her. She was vaguely aware of someone bending to help her, most like the person she ran into.

"You should really watch where you're going, Granger." Hermione tensed as she recognized the voice of the person beside her. But why would he help her?

She looked up, catching the gaze of one Draco Malfoy, his persistent smirk gracing his thin lips. Her brow raised considerably, shocked at her encounter with the Slytherin prince, and the fact that he wasn't spouting hurtful insults from that pretty mouth of his every five seconds. Well, unless you counted what he'd just said. Still, that could hardly be called an insult, so surprise was definitely setting in mind.

"I said I was sorry, Malfoy." She snipped back, returning to her task of gathering her papers. She grabbed the ones from his hand and stood with him, stuff the damnable sheets into her bag, no longer worried about their order.

"'Mione!" She turned to see Ron walking back towards her. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I just tripped that's all." She explained quickly, taking Ron's hand again. However, Ron's focus had shifted to the other person standing with them.

"What are you doing?" He sneered at Malfoy, who was now leaning against one of the compartment doors, his smirk still in place.

"Don't worry, Weasel, I didn't try to attack your girlfriend." Malfoy said and pushed himself off the door, he slipped easily behind Hermione and turned back to the two. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a seat to find. Keep your eyes open, Granger."

With that, the Slytherin left the Hermione and Ron to stare after him, as he walked down the corridor and disappeared into the compartment at the end. Eventually, the two Gryffindors turned and continued on their way to find their missing friend.

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"I can't believe you colored your hair." Blaise said to Pansy for the second time that day. Looking over to the girl who had sported her black bob for close to fifteen years and raising a brow at her change in appearance.

"It's really not that different, Blaise, just a bit lighter." Pansy defended, tucking a strand of chocolate brown hair behind her ear. She was right, the difference was hardly noticeable to people who hadn't known her for a long time. Draco doubted anyone outside of Slytherin would be able to tell.

And frankly, he didn't see what the big deal was. The color wasn't bad, in fact, Draco found it to match her eyes a bit better than her black hair had. He turned to his friend who had asked him his thoughts on the matter. Even though he didn't really care about the whole situation, he answered her with a small smile of approval.

That had the girl glaring smugly at Blaise before sitting back in her seat to watch out the window. Honestly, it was just hair. It wasn't like she couldn't change it back if she really wanted to.

Draco snorted at his friends' petty argument, it seemed as if the two of them had gotten sick of each other over the past summer. It wouldn't take long to get back to the way they used to be, he was sure of that. They were just a bit anxious for school to start. And it was understandable, this being their last year.

It was with that thought, and the silence that had filled their compartment, Draco decided it was a good time to open his gift. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small box.

He wondered what was inside this year, as he had always opened his back to school gift with his friends on the train. The years past had brought him things like new custom quills and other such things that he could use for school purposes. However, this year it seemed different. This year, it seemed to be something more.

"Oh, gift time!" Pansy said excitedly, grinning at the object in Draco's hand. He chuckled a little at her antics; she was always the one to get eager about things like this. She snuggled into Draco's arm, laying her head on his shoulder as he began to unwrap the box.

Blaise who wasn't interested in what Draco had gotten from his mother this year, watched the mountains they were currently passing at alarming speed. That was, until he heard Pansy gasp and turned to see Draco's eyes widen in surprise.

"Oh my god, it's beautiful." The brunette whispered as she gazed down at the thing inside the box. His interest suddenly peeked, Blaise moved to see what it was the two of them were gawking at.

It lay on a small cushion inside the box, it's delicate chain gleaming in the sunlight coming through the windows. The bracelet would have been gorgeous on it's own, clearly the finest silver had been put to use, but the chain itself was not the only thing. Hanging like a trinket on a charm bracelet, was a small marble of clear, dark-blue stone. It wasn't very big, in fact, the whole thing was rather small. But it was stunning nonetheless.

"What is it, a sapphire?" Pansy asked, reaching out to cradle the tiny stone between her thumb and forefinger.

"No…" Draco said dreamily, seeming to be in a trance as he lifted the whole thing by the chain and held it up to the light. "It's a dragon stone."

"I thought those were supposed to be red." Blaise commented, also captivated by the shine of the metal and the unusual color of the jewel dangling from it.

"They usually are." Draco explained, his voice but a whisper. "My mother got this bracelet her last year at Hogwarts, from her father that had traveled to Japan. There are only a few blue dragon stones in existence and they were only available in Japan twenty years ago."

"Seems like she's wanting to start a tradition." Pansy spoke from his right, bringing his eyes to her. She had a small smile on her face, knowing what had really been intended by the gift. "Did she leave a note?"

"No, not this year." Draco answered, unclasping the bracelet to wrap it around his wrist. He wasn't surprised it fit, even though it had belonged to his mother. After all, he looked like her, she had said so herself.

Blaise moved back to his side, and Draco lay down on his seat, his head in Pansy's lap. He held his arm up in the light, liking the way it reflected off the stone and danced around the compartment.

'_It's meant to be a goodbye…' _he thought to himself, _'this is her way of saying goodbye…'_

Pansy and Blaise thought Draco was never going to stop staring at his wrist.

'_Goodbye…'_

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**Note: Hmmmm….Well, not exactly where I thought it would go…but I think I did okay with it. Characters may be a little/a lot OOC, but I mean, it's fan fiction and well…it's going to happen. Wouldn't really be my story if it didn't, now would it? Anyway, love you all and hope you enjoyed reading the first chapter. I'm sorry if it's a slow start, but that can sometimes happen with introductory chapters…really not my fault, I swear. And frankly, it bothers me when everything happens too fast in a story that needs introduction/background, which is just about every one. Anyway, tell me what you think, I need reassurances if I'm going to continue this…'cause well…I'm still not sure where this is going! **


	2. Muggles, Nightmares and Gryffindor eyes

**Note: Alright, well, I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed last chapter, your replies are at the end of this chapter, if you choose to read this one, that is. There are a few things I would like to address here before I start the second chapter. One being that, sadly, I am very American. There is no British in me whatsoever, the closest I've ever been to Britain is when I went to France last summer, so forgive me for anything that seems a little out of place here, it's not my fault. The second is just that this follows the Harry Potter storyline very little…in other words…it's AU.**

**Disclaimer: See first chapter**

**Warnings: Again, there is mention of sexual and physical abuse and self-mutilation. If this bothers you, act accordingly, I'm not here to babysit you and cater to your needs of a happy-go-lucky story filled with fluffy bunnies and rainbows. Same goes for the slashy moments…well, then the rainbows probably belong…**

**On with Chapter 2 **

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**Burn These Bridges: Save Me From Hell**

**Jaiden Lockheart**

**Chapter II: Muggles, Nightmares and Gryffindor eyes**

The great hall had been decorated accordingly, and the students had piled into it like usual. First years had been sorted, placing five more students into the Slytherin house. New teachers had been introduced and rules had been read off, Filch adding even more things to his long list of prohibited items. Dumbledore gave another of his famous speeches and then they had all eaten.

Draco had taken all this in stride, the whole evening seeming a blur of familiarity. He no longer had to listen to speeches and didn't quite care the names and faces of the new students. He had looked up in acknowledgement when he was named Headboy, but quickly settled back into his back to school routine of muddled awareness of those around him and eating fairly quietly.

No one seemed to want to bother the blonde tonight, leaving him alone to Pansy and Blaise to catch up. Though he wasn't loud and cheery like the rest of the students, he was quite content with everything. He was still a little groggy from the nap he had taken on the train and it caused a throbbing behind his eyes, but he was doing his best not to worry over it. He could take something when he got back to his room, it wouldn't kill him for now.

"So, we were sitting there, in the middle of this muggle town in New York, lost as fuck and Pansy has the nerve to ask me if I wanted to take a taxi." Blaise went on to explain his and Pansy's trip to America. "I didn't even know what she was talking about--I do now, of course--but she thought I was actually going to get in a car with some crazy muggle and let him drive me around a city I knew nothing about."

"I only suggested it because we were lost and I thought someone who drove around the city all day would know where our hotel was located," Pansy defended.

"Yeah, great idea that one was, Pans. And what happened after we actually got in that taxi, huh?" Blaise was leaning over Draco to look mockingly at Pansy who sat on the other side of the blonde.

"How was I supposed to know the driver didn't speak English?" Pansy asked him, and Draco found himself laughing at his friends' argument.

"I just can't believe you guys walked into muggle New York. Why didn't you just stay in the wizard part?" The pale boy asked between chuckles.

"We didn't mean to," Pansy said, "Blaise got us lost."

"Oh, I got us lost?" Blaise retorted, sending Draco into more hysterics. It was good to be back with his friends. He needed a change from his life over the summer, and this was definitely a nice change.

When Dumbledore dismissed them back to their rooms, the three Slytherins walked down to the dungeons in silence--Blaise and Pansy having ended their conversation before it really started heating up. Draco couldn't help the feeling of comfort settling into his system. He viewed Hogwarts as his real home and he was grateful to be back here.

Back in the dormitory, Draco let his head fall to the pillow at the head of his bed. He stared up at the ceiling for the second time that day, but this one was a little different. This one didn't remind him of things he wished had never happened.

How many nights had he stayed staring at the ceiling, completely shut off to what was happening around him, to him? The white paint seemed to calm him, it was neutral, plain. So unlike anything else he could be staring at those nights, so unlike every other tainted thing in his room.

He closed his eyes, trying not to think about that. It was better left in the darker parts of his mind and put away to never come out and haunt him again.

But it would haunt him. It would haunt him forever.

He could still feel the hands on his body, colder than hands should be. He could still feel the fingernails and how they dug into his hips, his side, his neck. His screams still rang through his ears, both of pain and of ecstasy, because, despite what he wanted to tell himself, he had enjoyed it. He had enjoyed the torture, the pain. His body was forever scarred, and not only by his own hands that had pressed that blade just a little too hard. No, he had other scars.

Opening his eyes again, Draco found that the rest of the boys in the room were already asleep. Soft snores came from the others and he found the noise almost unbearable. He wanted to be alone suddenly; he didn't want the company of seventeen-year-old boys that knew nothing of what real life was like.

But how could they?

The were only seventeen. Young. Naïve.

Despite the legality of their ages, they were not adults. In fact, they were still so far away from that.

'_But you're not.' _He thought to himself. _'You are an adult. You've seen things these boys haven't, experienced things these boys can't even imagine. They sleep soundlessly tonight because they have no memories that torment them in their dreams.'_

The blonde slowly rose from his bed, his bare feet hitting the cold stone floor of the dungeon dormitories. He didn't bother with socks or slippers, just let the bottoms his flannel pajama pants pool around his feet. They hung precariously off hips that jutted out far too noticeably, the skin stretched taut across the protruding bones. He did have the mind to grab the sweatshirt that hung from his bedpost, covering his upper body so he didn't get too cold on his walk.

Without a look back, Draco left his room, left his nightmares.

He would be back later.

'_Let them take me later.'_

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"Look guys, I'm fine, okay? So you can stop worrying now." Harry Potter spoke the words with an amused smile on his face as he, Ron, and Hermione walked into the Great Hall the next morning. He shook his head as he sat on the bench at the Gryffindor table, his friends sitting on either side of him.

He could tell the two of them didn't believe his words, despite how much effort he put into convincing them. They weren't entirely wrong in thinking that he was acting a little out of sorts, with all the smiling and happy words. However, Harry was surprised himself to find that he really was happy.

Nothing really bad had happened over the last summer. He had gone home to the Dursley's and went about his normal summer routine of locking himself in his room and hardly speaking to anyone.

However, that wasn't entirely true.

He had spoken to someone…a lot.

Luken Carrick had been his first real friend living in the Dursley's neighborhood since he could remember. The boy had moved into the house down the road from his aunt and uncle's home last year while he was here at Hogwarts.

The two of them had met when Luken's mom had invited the Dursley's over for dinner one evening, having learned that another boy was staying with them that summer. Luken's parents had seemed mildly interested in Harry when they first met him. He could tell right from the start that they weren't buying the nonsense Petunia and Vernon were feeding them about him being some kind of delinquent. They had been welcoming and said that their son had just graduated from a school up north and was also home for the summer. It was then that Luken had decided to make his appearance. And it was then that Harry had realized he liked the older boy a little bit more than he had anticipated doing.

He smiled to himself now, remembering the time that they had spent together before Luken had had to go away to America for school. He had been Harry's first real boyfriend, and it had hurt to see the older boy go, but he had gone into the relationship knowing it wouldn't last forever. He was just happy he had some good memories now, instead of the bad ones that usually plagued his mind.

It was probably this fact that had his friends a little uncertain he was telling the truth when he said he was fine.

The three of them ate quickly, anticipating the time when their schedules would be passed out. They spoke little, still somewhat sleepy from having just woken up. Harry looked around and noticed that they weren't the only ones who seemed a little fatigued. He searched the Great Hall, not having done so when he had first entered and saw that many of the students who had already come down to breakfast were yawning and still stretching out tired, sleep-cramped muscles.

His attention was pulled to the doors of the Great Hall when they opened and three more students walked in. He quickly recognized them, his good mood souring slightly.

Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Draco Malfoy all made their way slowly to the Slytherin table where they took up residence on the bench and began breakfast. The three of them looked close to what Harry _felt_ like. Exhausted at having to wake up so damned early in the morning for the first time in months.

Or at least, that's what Parkinson and Zabini looked like. Malfoy on the other hand...

"Maybe he's sick…" Hermione said, bringing his attention back to her. He looked questioning at her for a moment, not quite understanding her words. Who was she talking about?

"Good." Ron said, taking a sip from his cup and glancing over at the Slytherin table before continuing. "The bastard deserves some sort of punishment sometime."

"What are you guys talking about?" Harry asked, thoroughly confused now.

"I ran into Malfoy yesterday on the train," Hermione started, ignoring Harry's raised eyebrow, "I wasn't looking where I was going and we bumped into each other. That's all that happened. Though, Ronald is convinced there was some foul play involved, Malfoy didn't do anything wrong. In fact, he was rather nice to me."

"Nice? Define nice in Malfoy terms." Harry challenged, stealing a look at the Slytherin prince before focusing back on his friend.

"He didn't call me Mudblood." She said simply and matter-of-factly.

'_Wow,' _Harry thought, _'that is an improvement.'_

"Maybe he is sick then." Harry stated chuckling at the thought of Malfoy actually being civil to the girl.

"He deserves it." Ron repeated adamantly.

"Oh, shut it, Ron." Hermione chided and stared back over at Malfoy. "He looks so tired."

"We all look tired, it's six o'clock in the fucking morning." The redhead protested. "And where did all this concern come from, anyway?"

"It's not concern," She defended, "it's curiosity."

"About?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and gazed defiantly at her two friends. If they didn't see it, they must have been blind, because she knew she wasn't the only one thinking about it.

"About what happened to make _Draco Malfoy _not care about brushing his hair this morning." She said. "Something is wrong, and I can't be the only one seeing that."

She was right, Harry decided as he looked back over to where the three seventh year Slytherins were sitting. Parkinson was fussing over Malfoy's robes and Zabini looked almost worriedly at his friend.

Harry didn't turn away when Malfoy's eyes came up to gaze into his. The look he found there wasn't one he was used to from the blonde, it held no contempt nor anger. He just stared with slate eyes that were cautious and guarded but blank.

"Now I'm curious." He said when Malfoy looked away.

Ron's head fell to beat against the table.

"What is this world coming to?"

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Draco fiddled with the bracelet on his left hand as he, Pansy and Blaise made their way to their first class of the year. He bit the inside of his lip--a habit he had picked up this summer--and listened to Blaise complain about his schedule and how the professors must have made a mistake somewhere.

"This is crap," Blaise stated as they turned a corner to walk down the corridor where their classroom was located. "It wasn't a required class until last year. So, why do we have to sit through it?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders but didn't say anything; he continued chewing his lip instead.

"I heard Professor Snape talking to McGonagall earlier," Pansy said, her voice a little less stressed than Blaise's, "apparently, the ministry requested that we have some baseline knowledge of it."

"Alright, I can handle that." The dark boy replied skipping a step to catch up with Draco who always seemed to walk slightly faster than himself and Pansy. "So give me a lesson. A baseline, one hour lesson. Not a whole fucking class for the whole fucking year."

Draco chuckled to himself; as much as he agreed with Blaise with the whole idea of making Muggle Studies a required seventh-year class was a horrible decision, he couldn't help but finding the ranting an overreaction. Ah, but Blaise was the king of those, and so Draco had learned to be amused by his occasional tantrum.

"Who do we have the class with, anyway?" Draco finally spoke to the two walking beside him.

"Brilliant! Gryffindors. This couldn't get any worse, could it?" Blaise said and stuffed his schedule back into his pocket.

"Muggle Studies with Gryffindors, nope, sounds pretty bad already." Draco responded and stopped outside the door to the Muggle Studies classroom. Students were already filing in and he caught a glimpse of two of the golden trio making their way to seats in the back of the class.

Pansy, Blaise and himself sat at the table as well, opposite Weasley and Potter as they were the only seats left in the room.

Blaise leaned over to whisper sarcastically in his ear, "This is about to get real interesting."

Green eyes came to meet his once again and he stared for a moment at the emerald orbs that seemed to be searching his own.

"Oh, very." He whispered back.

* * *

**Note: Chapter 2 is completed! Hope you all enjoyed!**

**loveGD**: **I hope this update was soon enough for you. Thanks for taking the time to read and I hope this chapter didn't disappoint.**

**silverdragon4736**: **Thanks for the feedback, it motivates me a lot. I hope this chapter is just as good with the imagery and portrayal as the first.**

**Sharin Fereba****: Wow, top 5? I don't know about that, but thanks anyway! Hope I lived up to the first chapter.**

**Vanessa: Thanks for the feedback! I'm happy you liked the first chapter!**

**WELL, anyway, that's all for today. Tell me what you think. Good? Okay? A waste of time?**


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